


Till Death Does His Part

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, M/M, Sneakiness, boston marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tired of trying to find Bertie a wife, Aunt A uses a loophole in the marriage laws to get Bertie a groom.<br/>She has no idea what she's done, letting Bertie know this was a possibility.<br/><br/>I wanted a forced marriage Jooster fic, so here it is, complete with made up legalities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till Death Does His Part

Some days, no matter how much the lark wings about or the snail does whatever it does with thorns, life is not going to be spiffing. Think what you will of the last of the Woosters, but I have determined when these days are going to be. When a gentle, yet insistent sheep enters my dream, coughing out a warning, I know the wolves are baying at the lark. Do wolves eat birds? I’ll have to ask Jeeves, but my point here is that I know Jeeves only wakes me when trouble looms. Is looms the word I want or does that have to do with weaving? Something else I’ll have to ask Jeeves, no not Jeeves, my husband. I’ll have to ask my husband when I see him.

As I write out the event of the last few days, it feels strange to write that. What else should I call him, the man who now shares my life? Helpmate? I don’t know, so I’ll start at the beginning and hope it comes to me before the end. Should I began with the sad little boy who was sent to school still grieving for his parents? It’s important, but probably too far back to keep the reader reading. Except, what are the odds of this ever getting read? The marriage is legal, but a state secret. Writing it like that makes it sound like I had to marry to prove I wasn’t a spy or something! At least, being my very male self, I wasn’t in the family way when Aunt A sent me hurtling toward matrimony like a lonely croquette ball headed for the final hoop. Right, I should start with Aunt A., and poor Jeeves waking me. 

“Jeeves, if the flat’s on fire let me sleep until the flames get closer!” I muttered into my pillow as soon as I realized the sheep following me in my dreams was being voiced by the valet at my bedside. 

“As you wish, Sir, but your Aunt is in the sitting room.” There was a warning in his voice, and no loud hound-calling voices from the sitting room. Realization had me sitting up in horror and disbelief. 

“It’s not Aunt Dahlia, is it?” 

“No Sir, and she is most insistent that you attend her.” He hands me a something on a salver, and I know it’s not tea because it’s in a glass. It’s also not the b. and s. I find myself wishing for, but I still down it. Nothing happens on that first swallow of Jeeves’ potions, and this one takes just a second longer. Then the entire world spins in the opposite direction for a moment, and when it reasserts itself, I have to figure out how I got to the foot of the bed and why I decided to stand on the f. of the b. I’m awake, alert and ready to do anything that starts with an A. 

“That was a doozy, Jeeves!” 

“I endeavor to give satisfaction, Sir.” 

“Remember that formula for the next time an Aunt wakes me before the crack of dawn.” 

“I shall, Sir.” He’s got me in my least snazzy robe, ushering me toward the door. Except, I’m awake now and smart enough to balk at what awaits me. 

“Don’t I have time to change, Jeeves?” 

“It would only increase the lady’s wrath, Sir. I feel she is attempting to gain the favor of the young man with her, but that desire will not last long.” 

“Are you sure this robe is formal enough for meeting Aunts and sundry?” 

“Black is a formal color, one must simply focus on it instead of the multicolored, bright, paisley pattern that surrounds the black, Sir.” 

“Alright, give me a push and dig up some tea.” 

“Yes Sir.” I had been joking about the push, but his warm hands rested on my back. Just that one touch before lightly shoving me out the door, and I felt better than drinking ten of his concoctions! “Aunt A., what delightful happenstance brings you by this morning?” 

“Morning, Bertie? If you had half a brain you’d know most people are planning lunch at this time.” 

“Ah yes, but as you so often point out, I don’t have enough of a brain to plan things.” I smile charmingly at the dour man sitting in the chair across from Aunt Agatha. His brown eyes take in my form like he wants to know how much I am per pound. Aunt A turns to him and lets him do his assessing. 

“What do you think?” 

“As rich as you said?” 

“Richer, unless his servant has robbed him blind.” 

“I say! He’d never do that!” I protested. I had no idea what they wanted with this corpus, but Jeeves wouldn’t steal from me. He wouldn’t do anything dishonest unless it was for the greater good or such. 

“He’ll do.” Dour man frowned at me and stood. When Aunt A started to struggle out from under her pleased smile and my chair, I had to ask. 

“Steady on! I’ll do what with my folding stuff?” 

“Bertie, don’t be make a bigger fool of yourself in front of Mr. Watmough, your fiancé.” I must have blinked stupidly at her, for what else could one do, and she tsked at me. “Go ask that Jeeves creature about the Spinster’s Loophole. I’ll send you the details after they’ve been made.” 

They headed for the door, and Jeeves shimmered out to offer up hats and such. They left, and I followed Jeeves into the kitchen. He started taking cups off the tea tray for three he had made, putting a perfect cup on the table. I sat and sipped at it as I watched him work his Jeeves’ magic. 

“Jeeves old thing, I think I misheard what my Aunt A had to say. Might be my ears, might be she’s filed her teeth into points to rip into nephews so much that she misspoke. Either way, instead of saying I was to marry Miss Watmough, she said I was fianced, if that’s how it goes, to Mr. Watmough.” 

“Indeed Sir? Do you know a Miss Watmough?” 

“No, never heard the family name. Must be tailors as Aunt A said it had something to do with the Spinster’s Loophole.” I would have said more, but Jeeves was returning the tea tray to its place and at my words there was the rattle of metal falling on metal. Not as loud as it could have been, but still very un-Jeeves to make any noise at all. “Jeeves, you alright?” 

“I apologize for letting the tea tray slip out of my fingers, Sir.” 

“Dash the tea tray, Jeeves! I know something I just said affected you, and I want you to explain it to me.” 

“Very good, Sir.” There was a moment while Jeeves did something, before he sat down at the table. He refilled my cup and poured one for himself, then he began to speak. “I believe your Aunt has affianced you to Mr. Watmough, not his sister.” 

“Now Jeeves, let’s do away with the japes and jests, shall we? Cove aren’t allowed to do that sort of thing with coves, unless two years at hard labor is funny to you.” 

“Quite true, Sir. There are several laws in place that keep members of the same sex from forming romantic entanglements, which is why the Spinster’s Loophole, or Boston Marriage is significant. Steaming from a time when women could not own property, this law is based on the idea that two people can live as cheaply as one. Two spinsters could combine their fortunes, and be assured of their spouses income for life.” 

“So Watmough wants to marry me for my money? Or is he going to bump me off for the insurance like in one of my spine tinglers?” Not quite believing what I thought Jeeves was saying, I joked at the idea. Jeeves’ complete seriousness when he answered brought me out of the mood. 

“It is possible Sir. The only Watmough family I have heard of have a large estate and title in Kendal, but no money for upkeep. The grandfather drank most of it, and the father attempted to win it back at the race track.” 

“And the son wants to marry into it, by marrying me?” 

“So it would seem, Sir.” 

“But, I’m not a filly!” 

“You are thirty years old, Sir. Thirty and unmarried with no prospects for a future engagement, and these are the most basic qualifications of the spinster clause.” 

“Basic? What about advanced qualifiers?” 

“There can be no evidence of a prior sexual relationship with your intended, or any member of the same sex.” 

“I’ve never even met him, so that proves we’ve never, um, relationshiped?” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“How are you going to get me out of the soup this time?” 

“I appreciate your faith in me, Sir, but at this time I am doubtful I will be able to.” 

“What?” I’d like to say I present a well reasoned argument to win Jeeves’ assistance, but after shrieking out that one word, my throat refused to work. 

“This individual has no interest in who he marries, only their worldly wealth. He is willing to risk the damage to his reputation, should this marriage become public knowledge. Short of giving away all your money, he cannot be convinced to change his mind.” Jeeves saw my panicked nod at the giving bit, and gave me a sad curling of his lip. “Sir, the loss of your money will not suit you well. That is not a personal failing, it is simply what you are accustomed to.” 

I blinked at the strange words, feeling as if that might be a Jeeves’ complement. Him not blaming my lack of skill in the kitchen on me, but on my lack of training, or something. He messed around with the tea and tea cups, pretending to be refreshing it even though neither of us had drunk a drop. 

“Sir, I do not wish to pry or overstep my bounds, but more information may lead to a solution.” He straightens the impeccably straight tea service, before asking with his stuffed frog face in place. “I have heard rumors about what growing young men do in public schools, when they are left unsupervised. Are there any of your school mates who could be convinced to admit to having done such thing with you, Sir?” 

I flushed, my entire body becoming brighter than my robe. I’m glad he asked in his stuffed frog way, calling me Sir and making it rather like a doctor’s question. If he’d suddenly changed into Bingo to ask, I probably would have fainted dead away. I pause in my writing to try and imagine Jeeves winking at me and asking, ‘Bertie, who’d you have a go at in school then?’ It’s terrifying. But at that kitchen table, three days ago, other things were scaring and embarrassing me. 

Mainly, how that sad little boy sent to public school, was always a little late for things. Not just for class and meals, but for those other things that happen in life. When your dead parents are the first thing on your mind, when everything you do is seen through the idea of if it would make them proud, you try and do the right thing. Then, as now, I didn’t seem to do the right thing, no matter how hard I tried. 

I don’t think my parents could be proud of me. Why would they be? That sad little boy grew into a happy man, but only because I pushed them from my mind and don’t try to do things. I try to clear the way for an old school friend to propose, and I end up engaged. I try to make an aunt happy, and wind up riding an old bicycle there and back to find everybody hates me. Everything I care about is lost in a car crash, and at the end I am the car. 

Back to the kitchen Bertie, before you bore your poor, imaginary readers! So, at school, I was slow and late, didn’t get interested in, um, relationships until everybody else was paired up. After that, it was too embarrassing to admit I was inexperienced, so I moved on. Started dancing with beazels as quick as I could, where it was expected that I would be lacking in clues. Never got further than the lip lock then, and most often that was met with laughable results. Jeeves, marvel that he is, understood how embarrassing it was to admit one was not a gentleman of the world. 

“None, Sir? Not even a friendly kiss on the cheek that might be misconstrued by witnesses?” I managed a mute shake of the head and Jeeves almost sighed before moving on. “Are there any young ladies of your acquaintance that you would consider preferable to Mr. Watmough?” 

It must have been the aftereffect of whatever he’d poured down my throat before I face Aunt A, but somehow a thought reached my mentally lacking brain. Anybody is preferable to Mr. Watmough, I thought. This included the coves at the Drones, since blokes are now in the ‘able to marry’ category. So if there was one person in the whole universe who I would tie my life to, who was it? That was a simple question, and I shot to my feet. Always before, I’d had to proper setting for that sort of thing, as well as several shots of Dutch courage and other stiffeners. 

“I need things, so I do it right this time!” 

I must have said that, instead of just thinking it, because I heard a confused Sirring as I walked out of the kitchen. Tossing on my hat and coat, I skipped the whingee and reached for the door. Jeeves reached around me to hold it closed, and I turned to frown at him. He just gave me a soupy look as his hand settled back by his side. 

“Sir, I would ask that you dress before undertaking your errands, no matter how urgent they are.” He was surprised at my smile, but I had used up all my embarrassment in the kitchen. 

“I’ll even bathe Jeeves, then you may dress me in my finest. I have errands to run, and wooing to do!” 

  
**J <3B **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ **B <3J **

So I did, planning while I bathed and let Jeeves dress me. Even let him feed me, but was very careful to keep my intentions to myself. On my way out earlier, I’d put his gloves in my coat pocket and he hadn’t noticed. Leaves were just starting to think about changing colors, so I doubted he’d miss the gloves if he left the flat. 

I went to a jewelry store I’d never been in and had a good look at the wedding rings. Jeeves said this was all legal, but as I’d never heard of the old maid’s embroidery or whatever, I didn’t think it was info the government wanted thrown about. Told the shop’s assistant it was for an Uncle who’d lost his ring, didn’t know his size and gave me the glove. The jeweler figured out a size, while I looked at what they claimed was the most common looking of the wedding rings they had. Common looking rings were my rubber duckie’s idea, in that it came to me in the tub. 

As the jeweler sized the ring I chose to the finger size he chose, I went to another shop I’d never gone to. Sure enough, they had the same basic ring in my size, until I bought it. As I returned to the first store, I saw a waitress enter a tea shop across the way. A memory flickered in me, so I stopped to make a phone call. Happy with what I learned, I picked up the now engraved ring and took myself back to the flat. I was whistling as I walked, cutting across the park to enjoy the day. 

I had woken to a perfect morning with a storm brewing inside my flat. Now that my personal world seemed to be spinning just right, the sky had clouded over to threaten me with moisture. So my happy whistling and casual walk caught more than a few stares from people thinking I must be insane. Just then, I was. Insanely happy with the insane idea I’d acted on before I could let my fear catch up to me. 

Thunder was booming across the land and rattling windowpanes when I greeted Jarvis and got into the lift. No longer whistling, I was still grinning like the fool I am when I entered the flat. What with the noise of the storm, I’m not surprised Jeeves didn’t hear me come in. I hung up my own coat, without calling out to him. I put his gloves back and put the larger ring in my right pocket, smaller in the left, before going into the kitchen. There I saw the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. 

Jeeves had a large book on the table before him, but it hadn’t even been opened. His right hand was holding a gasper over the ashtray, but the gasper had burned itself out some time ago. In quiet contemplation, Jeeves stared out the small window. The lightning was the only light in the kitchen, as it hadn’t been dark a while ago. After three lightning flashes showed me that noble profile, I realized how easily I could get addicted to watching the dark for the flash of brilliance that revealed the real Jeeves. Closing my eyes, I broke the spell and turned on the light. 

“Sir, I did not hear you come in.” He stands as he faces me, straightening a perfectly straight morning coat. 

“I’m surprised you can hear anything over this storm.” 

“Where you successful in your errands, Sir?” 

“Oh yes, got the bits and bobs. Now I just need the right setting.” 

“You should not wait too long, Sir, or the opportunity might pass you by.” 

“I can’t exactly propose during this deluge, be a bad omen and all that!” 

“Not if you have selected a lady without a superstitious nature, Sir.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, Sir. Though traveling in this weather is ill advised.” 

“It’s not that far.” I shrug as I move to stand before him. An eyebrow twitches, but I bet he dismisses the matching words and actions as being too hard for me to understand the connection. With my right hand in my pocket, I kneel before him. Both eyebrows jerk away from his eyes, so I’m smiling as I pull out the ring and hold it up for him. “Jeeves, it’s time for you to have everything I can give you. Will you take this Wooster to pluck out of the boulibase until death does his part in things?” 

Another strange sight is the look on Jeeves face. Gone is the stuffed frog, but it leaves behind real emotions I don’t know how to read. Looking back, I think Jeeves looks like a kid, alone in a candy store but knowing he shouldn’t eat anything. As if what he’s always wanted was just within reach, but he knows the punishment will be painful for daring to try. His hand is moving toward the ring, but the doorbell interrupts before he can answer. A blink and he’s no longer standing before me. I get to my feet, pocket the unanswered question, and go to see who’s at my door. The entire staff of the building is hauling mounds of luggage in, while Jeeves is hanging the wet coat of Mr. Watmough. 

“What’s all this, Watmough?” I asked, letting my annoyance show. 

“I’m moving in until the manor is fixed. Might take two years, but then I won’t have to stay in this awful city.” 

“I love old Blighty!” 

“You’ll grow to love the country, and be able to visit your relatives all the time.” 

I shivered at the idea, and looked to Jeeves for assistance. He was closing the door behind the staff, after having tipped them all, I’m sure. His stuffed frog face was perfect as he turned back for my instructions. Watmough turned and spoke to Jeeves. 

“Agatha told me about you, so I won’t fall for any of your tricks. Move this stuff to the second bedroom, and then you can start on supper. We’ll be dining in, and I don’t like to smell food cooking.” 

“Steady on! You can’t talk to Jeeves like that.” Watmough turned to me, frowning as if confused by my outburst. He turned back to Jeeves before he spoke again. 

“I want lemon tarts for dessert.” 

“I do not have the ingredients on hand, sir.” Jeeves was perfectly polite sounding to most people, but I heard it in his voice. He did not like this man, nor was he wasting a capitalized sir on him any time soon. 

“Then you should go get them, after you put my stuff in my room. You can unpack it after we eat, but I need to talk with Bertie in private.” 

I might have whimpered at these words, dreading whatever that meant. Jeeves heard the sound, even as Watmough seemed to dismiss us both from his mind. Watmough went to the chesterfield to flip through the spine tingle I’d left there. 

“Sir?” Jeeves’ voice, that wonderful capital Sir, called out to me. I turned, and forgot about Watmough. “Pertaining to your earlier question, the answer is yes. I will attend to that with all due haste.” 

I floated a bit, which was good as my knees seemed to go a bit wobbly. I could have floated there for a while, held only in place by Jeeves’ gaze, but a voice called to me. 

“Bertie, don’t you have a decent book in this place?” 

Reality crashed around me, much as my guest had c. into my flat, and I walked over to find him a book to read. By the time he’d settled on that book Florence had given me so long ago, theoretical ethics and important thingies, Jeeves was at the door and putting on his coat. He gave me a bow, before slipping into the hall. Hoping Watmough hadn’t noticed, I tried to sneak off to my room. But his voice called from the chesterfield like the thunder that still rumbled outside. 

“He’s only here until I can find a replacement I like.” 

“Say, what is your name?” My ‘says you’ might have started an argument, so I changed it to the first thing I could think of. 

“Watmough. You know that, Bertie.” 

“Yes, but I’m not going around calling you mister.” 

“Edward Simon Watmough, if that’s what you wanted to know.” 

“Yes, that’s what I wanted to know Eddie.” 

“Edward!” 

“Edward then. We may have started out on the wrong foot here. I don’t know what deal you’ve got going with my Aunt, but I don’t have any desire to bind myself to a complete stranger.” 

“Are you going to defy Agatha? Take me to her place, and tell her to her face that you won’t go through with this.” 

“Well I say!” It was a frightful idea, and he knew it. I’d left things in Jeeves capable hands but if I could help him anyway, I would do so. “If I did that, stood up to the nephew crusher, you’d leave me alone?” 

“No, but it’d be fun to watch you squirm.” 

My mouth closed with a snap, before I turned and marched into my bedroom. I’ll give him points for being honest, but in all other things he was an ass. Rather miffed at the whole situ, I settled on my bed for a good long think. Jeeves woke me for supper, as professional as ever. 

“Jeeves! How did things go? The shopping I mean.” I added that last bit in case Eddie was listening, and Jeeves’ eyebrow signaled his understanding. 

“It is a complicated recipe Sir, but I believe all shall be in readiness the day after tomorrow.” 

“Excellent as always,” I was about to add his name when it was shouted from outside the room. 

“Jeeves, Bertie! Hurry up, I’m ready to eat.” 

Jeeves allowed me to see a flicker of his irritation at our guest, and I was honored. He held the door open, and I went through it. I soon discovered Eddie was the type of person that could wear me out just by having to be around him. When I called for an early night, slipping to my room mostly sober, I felt like I’d run to Easby and back. 

Every sip of wine or b. and s. that night, came with a lecture on the evils of alcohol. Naturally, not a drop of the needful would be found on his estate.The estate I was to pay for, without ever uttering a word of suggestion. Eddie only allowed improving books, so I should start getting rid of my spine tinglers now, and save money by not buying more. I wondered at the times I had thought women were intent on molding me, when apparently some things cross gender boundaries. The night was so full of Bertie improving ideas, I might as well have dined with Aunt A. 

One thought kept me going, kept me moving when Eddie woke me at 8 in the ack emma. Jeeves was fixing this! Jeeves was going to fix it so that we stayed together forever, so no one could come in and bribe him to leave me. No beazel would waltz in and announce my upcoming nuptials, as the nups had already been trialed. Just Jeeves and I, no longer nature’s bachelors but living happily together until the fellow with the scythe took us both. 

That last day of bachelorhood, I was thinking so happily about what was to come, that Eddie had started speaking slower and using three or four letter words only. I didn’t care what he thought of me, or w. he t. at all, until Jeeves came to me after clearing away the lunch dishes. 

“Sir, you have an appointment shortly.” I jumped to my feet and almost ran to the front door. I stopped to wait for Jeeves to make me presentable, and Eddie found his voice. 

“What appointment? Bertie, you didn’t tell me of anything you had to do.” 

“Didn’t I?” I knew I hadn’t for the simple reason he might try and stop it. In my false surprise, Eddie stalked across the room, as if he could glare an answer out of me. 

“Bertie, it’s not like you to keep secrets.” Here Eddie shot Jeeves a look of malice, even though Jeeves hadn’t done anything in the last day and a half to irritate the man. My back stiffened, and I reached inside myself for the words to hurt this man. 

“Sir, as you do not wish to be late, perhaps the explanation can wait until you return?” 

“No it damn well can’t!” Eddie sputtered at us while I thought about it. 

Jeeves would never allow me to arrive anywhere late when he had control of my departure, ipso factoring, he was distracting Eddie and calming me down. Eddie stopped his tirade of reasons why I couldn’t be trusted to wander about the city on my own, and made the mistake of allowing Jeeves to get a word in edgewise. 

“A valid point sir, so I will escort Mr. Wooster on his errand. If you have any other requests of me, do not hesitate to ask.” 

Eddie blinked, trying to understand when he’d asked Jeeves to accompany me, and in that blink Jeeves had us both out the door and half way to the elevator. I restrained myself from laughing until we were on the street and waiting for a cab. Freedom was so close it was making me giddy. 

Jeeves lead me to a building across from the fanciest courthouse I’d ever seen. He introduced us to the man behind a desk, and told me to honestly answer the questions asked. We were separated so they could ask their questions as I grew old in the provided chair. Probably only an hour, but it felt like an eternity of being surrounded by questioning aunts with deep voices. Why did I want to marry a cove, why Jeeves? Had I ever been with Jeeves or any other coves? What did I think of fillies, and if I liked them why wasn’t I married yet? Why had Jeeves agreed to marry me? 

That last one stumped me, brought the gears of my brain to a stuttering halt. Faces leaned into the beam of light over my head, and I felt the need to say something, so I rambled a bit. “I’m not sure. I don’t think he wants my money, because he could have left for a better paying job at anytime. He knew I didn’t like the cove my Aunt A selected, which you would understand if you meet Eddie. Jeeves pulls me from the soup so often; perhaps it was natural for him to do it this time, no matter the hardship to him. Sorry gentlemen, I’m not smart enough to even guess what was going through Jeeves’ fish feed brain!” 

They left after that, and I sat in my circle of light trying to imagine what Jeeves got out of this. The door opened again, and a tiny man in thick glasses beckoned to me. I followed him to a normal looking courtroom, where Jeeves already stood before the judge. There were no formal words, just a rather young looking judge who asked if we were doing this voluntarily. He got a formal ‘yes sir’ from Jeeves and ‘yes indeed sir’ from me. That almost got a smile out of the judge and twitched Jeeves’ upper lip. Then we were signing an entire tree’s worth of documents, handed a stack of our own, and kicked to the curb. 

Brain awhirl and body exhausted, I used the cab ride home to plan the speech I would give Eddie, now that he had no claim on me. Fleeing to New York for a few decades until Aunt A calmed down might not be a bad idea, but first I had to tell her of this. Guessing I had a few days to work up to that, I strolled happily into my flat. 

“Bertie!” Her strident voice sent chills up my spine, and I stopped to stare at her. “Where have you been?” 

“I told him not to go without my permission.” Eddie muttered from the chesterfield, which brought my planned speech back to my brain. 

“Eddie,” I say, and I meant it to sting as I knew how he hates the name. “Our marriage is scratched, put it from your mind. I am off the market now and forever, having eloped.” 

Noise assaulted me, as Eddie and Aunt A jumped to their feet to demand an explanation. What I understood of their shouted words wasn’t very nice, and I didn’t want them to focus that anger on Jeeves. I couldn’t do much for him, but I could hold off their anger for a while. I let them shout until they paused to breathe and I was able to speak. 

“It’s legal and binding, witnessed by a man in a wig and a robe, though I’ll not speculate on what he’s wearing under all that. Eddie, why don’t you find a hotel to stay at, and I’ll send over your things once you’re settled. Aunt A, I would never throw an aged relation out of my flat, but I would understand if you wanted to leave in a huff.” 

“How do you know it’s legal?” Eddie growled at me, suddenly looking dangerous. He really wanted my money! “I bet you married a guy, but only seven judges are allowed to officiate over the Spinster’s Loophole.” 

“That’s right, Bertie could never find the right judge.” But Jeeves could, and she knows it. 

Before she can voice the thought, I moved in to shield Jeeves. Not literally, as he’s bigger than me, but the opposite of that. Stuck my neck out to make a better target for their anger than Jeeves’ stiff collar. 

“I was married by a Graham cracker.” Not what I meant to say, but my words always jumble up when I get emotional. Jeeves coughs to let them know he’s about to speak. For such a soft noise, it sure does get people’s attention. 

“The name Mr. Wooster is searching for is Graham Arthur Chapman, the youngest of the seven magistrates legally able to approve a marriage under the Spinster’s Loophole.” Silence follows Jeeves’ statement, but I know it’s not a respectful s. Aunt A is the first to speak, her anger so palpable she might have let it carry her across the room to throttle me. 

“And who did Mr. Wooster marry?” 

I do talk of the fear Aunt Agatha inspires in me, but this level of anger is not something I can mock. I also can’t stand before it, never could, knowing how her anger will reach out and crush my soul if she’s not appeased. Except today, when I didn’t want to subject Jeeves to that. A chap needs experience to handle Aunt A in full form, even a chap as magnificent as Jeeves. He’d had to put up with enough for a brainless jelly of a master today. 

“Not someone you picked out, so you’re not going to approve. Beyond that, does it matter who I married?” And the fireworks start; explosions from her mouth, steam from her ears, and the smell of singed hair. 

She tells me just what she thinks of me, down to the bacteria that are common enough to hang out with the likes of me. In exacting detail, she lets me know it was my stupidity that drove my parents out for a drive on a rainy night, their last night. Points out how much better off the world would be if I had stowed away in the car that night. I could have hidden in the trunk, she adds, which was crushed closed and the police had been unable to open it. A slow death by suffocation was too good for me, but knowing help was just out of reach would have made it torturous enough. 

I couldn’t look at anything but her hate filled face, knowing she meant every word of it. When at last she storms out, cursing me and anyone who tolerates me to a lingering death, I try not to fall flat on my face. Jeeves’ strong arms catch me; basically carry me to the chesterfield, so he can pour something down my throat. I don’t taste it, but it gives me enough energy to curl into the chesterfield. With my head sandwiched between my hunched shoulders and the back of the chesterfield, I wept as softly as I could. 

  
**J <3B **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ **B <3J **

Smells from the kitchen penetrated my misery, and I forced Aunt Agatha’s words out of my head. Went to splash some water on my face and try and make myself presentable. The smile I plastered on my face felt false, but fooled most people. Wandering toward the kitchen, I saw the table was set for one. I frowned at it, before forcing the smile back on and seeking out Jeeves. 

“Jeeves, supper smells wonderful! I didn’t realize how much I missed the smell of food over that last few days. How did you manage that marvel, or is it secrets of the guild?” 

“It was a matter of less odiferous dishes and an open window, Sir.” Jeeves’ words were formal, his voice stiffer than it was the first time I fired him. I was confused as to why, as I thought he’d be as celebratory as I over the departure of Eddie. Though I knew he’d never show it like I would. 

“Eddie’s not still lurking about, is he?” 

“No Sir, Mr. Watmough departed during your aunt’s diatribe. I packed his belongings and sent them to the hotel indicated.” 

“Aren’t you happy to get rid of him, then?” 

“It is not my place, Sir.” 

“Jeeves, did I do something stupid when I wasn’t looking?” 

“To what are you referring, Sir?” 

“I’m not sure, you just seem so formal. Join me for supper, so we can talk?” 

“It would not be proper, Sir.” 

“Hang proper! Proper went out the window when we stood before the judge and yes sirred him!” 

“If you say so, Sir. I will serve your supper momentarily, if you wish to get comfortable.” In the face of his polite concern for my comfort, or a clear Jeeves’ dismissal, I retreated from the kitchen. Had a solitary meal, without a single word passing between us. 

Stomach full of ashes, I retreated to my room and attempted to make sense of things the only way I know how: I wrote them down. So now I’ve reached the end, and I still don’t know what to call Jeeves. Husband, or poor bloke who’s tied himself to a drowning fool? I may not know what exactly happens on a traditional wedding night, but I’m sure feeling more alone than ever isn’t part of it. 

I’m done writing, so I close my diary and stand, jumping for the ceiling when I notice Jeeves behind me. While I’m up there, I check for any imperfections in the plaster, anything to put off what I’ve just figured out I have to say to Jeeves. When I land heavily on the floor, he speaks as if he’s completely unimpressed by my jumping skills. 

“Are you ready to retire, Sir?” 

“I can handle things tonight, Jeeves. You can go start divorcing this blot and sell the rings. Might have trouble with yours, since it’s engraved, but you’ll figure something out. I’m sorry I dragged you into this drama, but I’d appreciated it if you didn’t leave me all together.” 

I shuffle off to the _salle de bain_ , letting him escape my presence for a while. I close the door, and think I hear the phone, but Jeeves doesn’t return, so I forget about it. Later, as I stare at the curtains blocking the window, I don’t find the oblivion I crave. That’s what sleep is, oblivion, right? Some poet Johnnie asked ‘sweet oblivion, take me in your arms’ and if that’s the only arm action one is likely to get, it takes on a special appeal. 

“Sir, may I speak with you?” Jeeves floating in on soundless feet, but I don’t even jerk. Nor am I surprised he knows I’m awake. 

“Do what you must.” 

“Sir, it is about the inscription on the ring.” 

“You know I’m too stupid for it to be right. Just make something up when you sell it.” There is a moment of silence and I wonder if he has left me. Then he stands before me in the dark, blocking my view of the curtain, until he kneels by my bedside. 

“I am sorry I caused you such distress. Will you allow me to make it up to you?” 

“It’s my fault Jeeves, I expected too much of you.” I pull up a smile, unsure if he can see it but it still helps me put a spark in my voice. “All’s forgiven! Sleep well.” 

Instead of leaving, he settles so his head is almost level with my reclining head. I’m about to protest, when he says something that erases all thought from my feeble brain. 

“Bertie, listen to me.” My name, in his voice causes my breath to hitch, and I sit up to face him. “I should have supped with you, so we could talk. We did not have the chance while Mr. Watmough was here, as your aunt set him to guard you. I need to explain my hesitation in answering your question.” 

He lets go of my hand to twist the ring on his left hand. If it were anyone else, I would think he was twisting it out of nerves. But not Jeeves, his nerves are made of sterner stuff, though I don’t remember when he started wearing rings. His words bring my attention back to his face, more memory than real in the darkness of my room. 

“When you proposed, I hoped you asked for more than convenience, but could not speak of it. Yet your words this afternoon, forced me to think any warm body would have sufficed. After hearing the terrible things your Aunt said to you, I tried to focus on your needs. Instead, my own needs intruded. Your words hurt me, so I could not discuss this situation rationally. I could not sit there and hear you thank me or offer me money for services rendered.” 

“Jeeves! I didn’t even think of that. I didn’t think much more than I normally do. I asked myself what one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and you were the answer, as always.” 

“Do you understand why I feared it might simply be my proximity that caused you to believe that?” 

“I think so, but I don’t think it’s like you to make such a mistake.” 

“I am cynical Sir, and do not expect to get what I most desire.” 

“Stay with me, be my um, husband or whatever, and I’ll see to it that you get what you most desire!” I hear the emotions in my voice, but I couldn’t begin to name them all. Whatever he wants, so long as he stays where I can buy it for him. 

“Sir, I do not desire a chaste marriage.” 

“Now that is something I thought about! You can do what you want, and if need be, I’ll adopt any kids so they get my money when we’re gone. Much better for the next generation if they have your brains, though I hope they don’t get their mother’s beard.” 

“Sir,” I hear Jeeves start but he pauses. Another strange event in this day of s. e.s! “Beard, Sir?” 

“Don’t take it that way, Jeeves! Actually, I think it’s great that both you and Bingo can see past the poor woman’s chin hairs to the real beauty. When I was out buying the rings, I phoned your Uncle Charlie to ask the questions you won’t answer. Asked him about the young waitress you snatched from under Bingo’s nose, to make sure you didn’t have an understanding with her or anyone. Uncle Charlie laughed and mentioned her beard, but was called away before he could explain. I know you can see past the exterior and all, though there’s not much in my interior to see.” 

“Sir, the cook and the waitress did not have beards, they were beards.” 

“Sorry old thing, I think you’ve lost me again.” 

“My Uncle was attempting to explain that the women with whom I have had understandings were means of diverting suspicions away from my lifestyle. As long as the issue was not examined in any particular detail, I would appear to be heterosexual. The truth is, I have no physical interest in women. As of late, only one man has attracted my physical and emotional interest, and that would be you, Sir.” 

“Spiffing and all, but I find it hard to believe.” 

“If you would allow me to demonstrate, Sir?” 

“Do I need to turn on the light?” I’d seen salesmen doing demonstrations in stores, and thought I might need to see what Jeeves was about to do. Warm hands found my head in the darkness, and I startled. Jeeves’ hands, I knew that, but different. No longer emotionless and professional, though how hands could be either I don’t know. 

“All you have to do is relax, Bertie.” Again with my name, falling off his lips, and warming something inside me. Then warmth against my lips, warming everything. Jeeves’ lips, softly touching mine. Jeeves kissing me! 

“I take it you liked that, Sir.” The soft, amused words in my ear are panted out, as if Jeeves has been running. I feel his chest heaving under mine, which seems to be doing its own bit of heaving. 

Slowly, my brain gets itself together, noticing that I’ve managed to press Jeeves’ torso into the bed, his legs still dangling off from where he was sitting. I hadn’t noticed before but he’s wearing his pajamas and dressing gown, or was until somebody pulled off the buttons to get to his lightly haired chest. A chest I seem to be exploring with mine. Best I can tell, at about the point I understood Jeeves was kissing me, my brain had given out. Oddly enough, it seems my body knew what to do in just such a situ, though I’m glad the bulge down below isn’t angled to press into Jeeves. Hopefully that will go away before it embarrasses us both. 

“So that’s what all those poet Johnnies are always on about!” Another soft chuckle and a nibble on my earlobe precedes his answer. 

“No Sir, that was the preliminary activity to what the poets speak of.” 

“And you want to show me how to do the rest?” Intriguing words like that aren’t getting rid of the embarrassing bulge! 

“I want to be the only one you do them with for the rest of time.” 

“Why? I’m not good enough for you, and just this afternoon I managed to hurt you without being aware of it.” 

“You said it did not matter who you married, and I took it to mean you only had me because I was available. I could not see at the time, but you were attempting to protect me from your Aunt’s anger. I have never heard the equivalent of the vile lies she spoke, and I knew you needed comforting after that. My anger made me unable to provide it, until I saw your true intentions.” 

“How did you figure out I was trying to protect you?” 

“I had not looked at the rings since I hid them the other night. I believed you bought them, unaware that they were not expected in a Spinster’s Loophole marriage. Most men and women involved in such things hide them, out of embarrassment or fear. Tonight, my Uncle Charlie called to ask if anything out of the ordinary had happened. I was attempting to explain in a coded way, so that anyone who overheard would not understand, when he started laughing. He told me you called to check on my eligibility, and asked for his permission.” 

I’m unprepared for the smug amusement Jeeves lets into his voice, so I find myself defending my actions. “Well, you were always sort of old fashioned and gentlemanly, so I thought it would be proper, and he’s your oldest relative that I know of so I asked him.” 

I’m not sure what Jeeves does to my earlobe in response, but it makes me shiver and relax onto him. “That’s why it was the perfect thing to do, my Bertie. Asking showed you knew me, that you considered me a person and not a convenience. So I read the ring.” 

Jeeves rolls us, pinning me under him so his hands can start unbuttoning my pajama top. That bulge is reasserting itself, but I think I can will it way if he doesn’t speak, and I can forget it’s Reginald Jeeves doing these things to me. 

_“Ay me! For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.”_

“I say, he got all that on a little ring?” Jeeves chuckles and the sound makes me fully hard, like I haven’t been in years. I just hope the little fellow isn’t disappointed if it winds up just being me and him tonight. 

“Your version is on the ring, and I find it just as poetic.” 

“You do?” My crooked path was all I could remember of that quote. 

“Yes, and I will have it engraved on your ring before I give it to you. For our honeymoon, we shall go to France and have a proper ceremony on a private beach.” 

“Not even married a day and you don’t even bother pretending to ask.” 

“I planned on asking, but I’m confident you won’t be in any condition to refuse, or remember the exact details.” 

“What do you mean by that?” I managed to ask, but only because he’s trailing kisses down my throat now and my lips are missing the activity. 

I’ve also forgotten about his hands, because his kisses move down to my naked chest, just as he pulls my pajama pants off. Naked and aroused, the air itself makes me hiss. Jeeves hears this and turns to blow cool breath across the head. Another hiss makes me think there might be a snake under the bed. A soft, warm snake that leaves a trail of moisture across my cockhead. Not a snake but something Jeeves is doing, I force myself to realize as hands settle on my hips. Warmth and moisture surround my cockhead and those hands keep my hips from flying away from the rest of my body. 

“Is that your mouth?” I hear myself asking, and Jeeves gives another chuckle, but this one surrounds my cock. 

Slowly, the world takes shape again. I have no words to describe what just happened, but know it was nothing like what my hand could do for my cock. Resting beside my cock on my thigh is a large hand. It takes a great deal of effort to do more than feel that hand resting there, forcing myself to think about the body the hand is (hopefully) attached to. He’s laying beside me, curled up against my side. The feel of cloth tells me he’s still wearing his pajama bottoms, which I decide is monstrously unfair. I want to see Jeeves in the altogether! 

“Jeeves!” I speak my realization out loud, and a few other things, somehow still not believing Jeeves is the one who just inverted the world for me. I giggle at that, and Jeeves nuzzles my ear. I’m glad he likes doing that to my ear, because I’m positive I’m addicted to it now. “Just understanding that you’ve inverted my whole world, and it’s fantastic.” 

“I am aware of your appreciation.” 

“You sound so smug! I didn’t know you did smug.” 

“A few moments ago, you promised that you would burn that waistcoat with the flower pattern before we left on that a year long world cruise I asked about a few months ago.” 

“I said all that?” 

“On the condition that I didn’t stop what I was doing. Later, we shall discuss your need to use monetary incentives to get your way. I shall show you activities that will be even more convincing to me.” 

“You’re going to let me do to you what you just did to me?” 

“Yes Bertram, frequently.” 

“Jolly good! Would you let me try it now if I spoke the words engraved?” 

“Most likely.” 

How could one resist such an invitation? I roll so I can kiss him until his breath is staggering a counterpoint to my own. A curious hand finds hardness hidden behind those pajama bottoms I disliked a moment ago, and hate now. 

“My crooked path, your trousers are in my way. Take them off, and I will trail a crooked path of kisses down your body. A body straight and strong, that a most crooked path has brought me to call mine, my own, my crooked path, my love.” 

“Bertram, Bertie! My pants are gone but don’t stop saying such things. Touch me, please, but I beg such words in your beautiful voice!” 

“You are my husband, my crooked path, you won’t ever have to beg.” 

More words do come to me, but I’m not listening to them. I’m concentrating on the skin under my fingers, how Jeeves responds. There’s a spot near his bottom rib that causes his whole body to shiver. I’ll have to remember that spot, but right now I’m too busy trying to speak and kiss at the same time. I feel how alive he is under me, and realize I’ve missed so much, hiding from what I felt. 

Jeeves was always so beautiful, graceful and perfect, but more than that. He was the one constant in my life, the one I ran to for everything. If this wasn’t love, I couldn’t imagine what could be better. Nor could I imagine this with another, anyone else, even before Jeeves shimmered into my life. 

“I’m so glad I waited for you.” My thoughts and words line up, to push Jeeves into spilling into my hand. I’m almost as breathless as him, and collapse onto him. He curls around me as our breath slows. I want more of this world he’s shown me, but I feel sleep pulling on me. I fight it, until I realize this isn’t a dream. Jeeves is in my bed, in my arms! 

“Sleep Bertram, you need your rest.” Jeeves voice is still smug and pleased with himself, but the words I hear him say push me into sleep with a smile on my face. “Tomorrow is the first day of our honeymoon.” 

  
**J <3B **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ **B <3J **

_Ay me! For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth;_ A midsummer Night’s Dream Act 1, scene 1 Lysander


End file.
